Meet the Teacher
by SweetDeamon
Summary: In which Remus and Dora receive word from Hogwarts that their son's homework has been completed in a far from satisfactory manner. The subject? Defence Against the Dark Arts. The topic? Werewolves. They've been expecting trouble since the beginning of term...but who feels less prepared? Teddy's parents or Teddy's teacher? Neville has a hunch... AU. RLNT. Rated for mild language.


_Note: Alternative Title: That Story For Trixie That She Won't Stop Pestering Me About. _

_I decided on a different title because that one seemed a bit long winded._

_Naturally this story is dedicated to Trixie._

_This story is based in the 'Meet the...' 'ficverse out of sheer laziness and __**can stand alone**__ perfectly well. All you need to know is that Remus and Tonks survived the final battle, Remus is currently unemployed and Tonks is the Deputy Head of the Auror Department. For anyone who cares, this story is set at some point in between Meet the Muggles and Meet the Marauders. I've not quite done the maths yet! And we all know how bad I am at maths..._

_I have another Meet the... one shot half-written, which is (meant to be) a comedy! So...hopefully I'll finish that and write some more of my chaptered stories soon. _

_I am now finished with University for good! Which I suppose now makes me not a student but a unemployed bum instead! But with any luck I will find a job soon! I might have a little more time for writing for the time being though, if I am lucky!_

_Anyway, back to this story! I hope you all enjoy it!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

**Meet the Teacher**

It was early afternoon at Auror Headquarters deep within the corridors of the Ministry of Magic, and as a cluster of scarlet robed witches and wizards stood mumbling to one another before the noticeboard upon the wall in one corner of the office, sipping cups of coffee and hastily polishing off the last of their sandwiches from lunch, Deputy Head of Aurors Nymphadora Lupin gazed around at the murmuring bunch of Aurors before her before reaching to pick up the wooden ruler that had been abandoned up against the wall. Straightening up purposefully the metamorphmagus took one last look to see that nobody appeared to be paying any attention, before striking the ruler against the noticeboard with such force that the accompanying _thwack_ made most of the Aurors jump.

"So!" Dora called, ignoring the muttered expletives as Jasmine Wickes attempted to mop away the scalding hot coffee that she had just splashed down the front of her robes, as around her there was a sudden scramble to look alert and interested. "Lunch finished five minutes ago and I've got paperwork to go and drown under! So listen up, I'm only going to say this once..."

No sooner had Dora glanced sideways to tap the ruler against a photograph of a sullen-looking witch upon the wall, there came hurried footsteps and a young wizard with freckles and curly blonde hair came tripping past the final cubicle, the pointed wizard's hat almost falling from his head in the process. Scrambling to keep the wayward hat upon his head, the young man blushed scarlet as a few of the Aurors glanced round to look at him.

"Um..." he mumbled as Dora's grip upon the ruler slackened in irritation, and the Deputy Head of Aurors found herself calling:

"Can we help you...?"

"Um..." the young man said, glancing in consideration at a large cream envelope that he had clutched in his hands. "I'm...I'm looking for...for um..."

"_For_...?" Dora prompted, failing to stop an eyebrow creeping up towards her hairline, and after gawping at the name upon the envelope for a long moment the young wizard managed:

"Mrs. N Lupin...?"

"That would be me." Dora informed him, abandoning the ruler up against the wall, and her colleagues shuffled sideways to let her pass them. "New, are you?" she asked the tongue-tied wizard when she reached him, and when he simply continued to clutch onto the envelope, staring at her looking startled she swallowed her irritation and offered him a bright smile. "What's your name, hm?"

"Um...D...David, Mrs. Lupin."

"David. Nice to meet you! I'll take that then, shall I?"

David's entire face was pink as he mumbled:

"Oh...yes..."

Dora reached to prise the envelope from his grasp and as he took a step backwards she told him:

"Cheers, David!"

"Y...you're very welcome, Mrs. Lupin."

"It's Tonks, actually. They only call me Mrs. Lupin when I've pissed off the Wizengamot!"

As David gave a nervous laugh and made a hasty retreat back through the maze of cubicles, Dora eyes the envelope curiously as she turned to head back towards the front of the assembled Aurors.

"Anyway..." she murmured, turning the envelope over and raising an eyebrow at the crest of Hogwarts School that had been pressed into the red wax sealing the paper shut. "Where was I..."

"You were only going to say this once." Robert Wilde reminded her from his position sat upon a desk, his feet upon the chair in front of him, and Dora reached a distracted hand sideways to pick up the ruler again, hold upon it limp as she mumbled:

"Oh yeah...right...so! I'm only going to say this once..."

"That's twice you've said it now..."

"Shut up, Jas. Now, this is um...whatherface..."

"Lorna Ludgrove." one of the other Aurors supplied, and Dora shot the wizard in question a frown before agreeing:

"Exactly. This is Lorna Ludgrove, we've finally tracked down a recent photograph of her. She was last seen here, in Morten In Marsh, the day before the two suspects were spotted there by Mr. Edgecombe...so...from four o'clock today I want the village watched. I want Jasmine here, Isaac over here, Xander covering this street here and we'll have invisibility cloaks for Robert and Daniel who will be covering the primary target here, where we suspect the pair of them are hiding. The rest of you will be roaming in pairs. Muggle clothes, people! This is a muggle village, full of tourists, keep yourselves to yourselves, no slip ups! No funny business! If you need to leave your post, you wait for somebody roaming to come and take your place! No leaving your post unattended until midnight when the next lot come to relieve you of your shift! Is that clear? Any questions? No? Good! I'm going to eat lunch!"

"I thought you said lunch was over..."

"Lunch, extended tea break, call it whatever you like, Jasmine. Just stay out of my office!"

Once safely behind the firmly closed door of her office a couple of minutes later, Dora briefly considered barricading herself inside before concluding that this might be a step too far. She went to sit behind her desk, leaning back in her chair with a yawn before taking another moment to study the envelope in her hands.

She could not remember the last time that she had received a letter from Hogwarts. One addressed to her personally, at least. There had been the odd letter of praise from various teachers recounting Teddy's achievements in Charms and a few other subjects throughout the past few years, but naturally every one of those letters had been addressed to both she and Remus jointly.

It was...odd.

It was probably Neville Longbottom, she supposed as she reached to break the wax seal and pull open the envelope. Not that the Herbology professor wrote to her often, mind you, but she did hear from him on occasion, they had grown to know one another well during his short stint at the Auror Department some years previously...

Inside the envelope, a rather large envelope for your average letter, Dora mused, she found several sheets of parchment, the topmost of which had been folded neatly in half. The rest, the witch discovered, appeared to be a school essay, written in handwriting that she recognised instantly. Frowning, Dora leant further back in her chair, shifting to get comfortable, and started to read.

_An Essay Concerning Lycanthropy and Werewolves_

_by Theodore Lupin. _

_Traditionally referred to as a curse, lycanthropy can be accurately described as an incurable disease which is passed on to new suffers when they are bitten by a werewolf at the time of a full moon. Lycanthropy causes sufferers to transform into werewolves once per month when the moon is full, and this transformation takes around three or so minutes to be complete. However, the disease does not take instant effect when somebody is bitten, as they do not instantly transform under the current full moon. Instead the disease takes time to infect the victim and they will then transform during the next month's full moon instead. This is why it is called a disease rather than a real curse, because a curse would have a more sudden effect._

_According to records held by the Werewolf Registry at the Ministry for Magic, there are approximately three hundred and fourteen werewolves currently residing in Britain, with an average of four people per year becoming infected with lycanthropy after being bitten by a werewolf. The number of attacks upon people by werewolves is much higher than this, however the majority of victims die during or shortly after the attack. These figures have been decreasing since the invention of the Wolfsbane Potion and, more recently, the reforms introduced by Minister Shacklebolt's government. It is difficult to know how accurate these figures are because it is likely that not all werewolves have allowed themselves to be registered by the Ministry of Magic. _

_Lycanthropy is not a heredity disease, but most werewolves can expect to live slightly shorter lives than other people. This is because the transformations have a damaging effect upon the body which leads to premature ageing. A large number of werewolf deaths are often due to overdoses of pain relief potions, though how many of these are genuine accidents or suicides is unclear. When transformed without Wolfsbane and away from potential victims, werewolves often resort to biting and scratching themselves out of frustration. Therefore a person suffering from lycanthropy, especially an older person who was transforming before Wolfsbane was invented, will probably have a lot of scars. Since Wolfsbane is so expensive and about 93% of werewolves on Ministry records are unemployed, a lot of younger werewolves will also be scarred because they cannot afford to buy the potion. _

_Just 5% of all registered werewolves in Britain are currently married. 30% were married before they contracted the disease but have since gotten divorced or have separated. Most marriages happen before infection. There have been just three known marriages of people who had already contracted lycanthropy in the past thirty years. Werewolf Rebekah Boydon married a Mr. Ramsbottom in 1989, but was widowed a month later when her husband found out about her condition which she had hidden from him, leading to his suicide the following day. Another werewolf, Alf Lymes, married Quidditch star Vanessa Spinnet in 2000, but she emigrated to Australia the following year, leaving her husband behind. My father, Remus Lupin, married my mother, Nymphadora Tonks, in 1997 and they are still married to this day. This makes my father the only werewolf to marry after contracting lycanthropy and remain married for a significant length of time. He is also the only registered werewolf to have fathered a child in recent years._

_The average werewolf begins to feel unwell around three or four days before the full moon and can take a couple of days to fully recover from the transformation afterwards. It is common for a werewolf to get a fever after a transformation and other symptoms can be serious enough to land them in a hospital bed. At all other times, however, a werewolf can appear entirely fit and healthy and it is usual for suffers of lycanthropy to develop an extremely high tolerance to pain. For example last Christmas my mother dropped a cauldron on my father's foot and broke three of his toes which barely made him flinch. Werewolves are often also known to have good hearing, though this has been exaggerated a lot over the years. My father tells me that this makes werewolves over-sensitive to loud noises. But my mother says this is simply a lie to persuade me to turn down my Weird Sisters records at seven o'clock on a Sunday morning. Muggles believe that werewolves are allergic to silver, but this is actually not true. It is true, however, that werewolves prefer to eat meat which is cooked rare. The drinking of Wolfsbane is rumoured to make werewolves' tolerance to alcohol higher than the average witch or wizard, but no proper tests have ever been done to find out if this is true. My godfather tells me that my mother can drink my father under the table, but since my father rarely drinks a lot of alcohol I don't know if this is entirely true..._

Dora pursed her lips together against a snigger as she abandoning the essay down upon her desk as she reached for the other sheet of parchment, carefully unfolding it as she mused aloud:

"That boy of mine knows more about werewolves than I do..."

Her amusement was cut abruptly short as she set about reading the essay's accompanying letter.

_Dear Mrs. Lupin, _

_Last week in Defence Against the Dark Arts I requested that my third year students, including your son, write an essay concerning werewolves, to be handed into me at the beginning of the week. I outlined a number of key areas that the students should explore as part of their essays, however upon reading Theodore's efforts I found that not only had he ignored these prompts, he had gone so far as to write an essay entirely irrelevant to Defence Against the Dark Arts as a subject, as you can well see from the copy which I have enclosed. Consequently I asked him to rewrite the essay in a more satisfactory manner, but when asked to present his new essay yesterday he informed me that not only had he failed to write it, but also he had no intention of doing so, either. He has maintained throughout our discussions, despite my having taken a total of twenty five house points from Gryffindor, that he fails to see what was wrong with his work and that he put a lot of thought and effort into it. Clearly he has failed to take the homework assignment seriously because as you can see none of what he has mentioned is relevant to Defence Against the Dark Arts at all. Theodore has bluntly informed me that he does not care about my opinion when it comes to what is and is not relevant information regarding these particular dark creatures and consequently he will be spending the following three evenings in detention. His behaviour, in front of the rest of the class no less, has been entirely inappropriate and he has shown a total lack of respect towards me. As I am sure you can understand, I will be expecting Theodore to complete a proper version of his essay during detention, and he will not be welcome back in my class until he has done this to a satisfactory standard. I would like to invite you to a meeting with myself this evening, if you are available, to discuss Theodore's behaviour which has grown abruptly sullen and bad-tempered in recent days. _

_Yours Sincerely, _

_Professor Barnabus Etheridge_

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Dora simply stared down at the letter for a long moment, lips pressing into an increasingly tight line across her face until she finally reached to snatch up Teddy's essay with her free hand, rose purposefully to her feet and stalked across the office, flinging the door wide open with bad-tempered mutter, causing several Aurors to look from their desks with questioning looks.

"I'm going home!" the Deputy Head of Aurors announced to the office at large, only for Ron Weasley to abandon his inspection of a map upon the wall to call:

"You can't just bugger off now, Tonks! Harry says he's calling a meeting..."

"Yeah? Well I'm sure Harry can wait half an hour, Ron..."

"But Tonks..."

"It's my lunch break! I'm entitled to one!"

"Yes, but..."

"Anyway, I need to check up on Remus, it was full moon last night!"

And that, it seemed to the other Aurors who watched as the witch promptly disappeared out of the office and into the corridor beyond, the double doors banging shut behind her, was the end of that.

Dora arrived out of the floo to find the sitting room dark and stuffy and as she reached to dust the soot from her robes the metamorphmagus blinked to adjust her eyes to the lack of light.

Her husband, it seemed, had not moved a muscle since she had left him early that morning, for he was lying fast asleep upon the sofa, wrapped up in an assortment of mismatched blankets. Dora crept across the room to gaze down at him with a frown, musing that he was usually quite awake by this time of the afternoon, and as she reached to press a hand to his forehead she found his skin damp and clammy.

Remus stirred.

"Wotcher, love." Dora murmured, sweeping the hair back from his forehead as he dragged his eyelids open to gaze up at her. "It's past lunchtime, you know."

"Is it?" Remus wondered rather doubtfully, a deep frown creasing his brow, and Dora leant across him to grasp hold of the curtains behind the sofa, pulling them aside to let light flood into the room.

"Yep, it is." she said as he blinked against the sudden brightness. "Sit up, won't you love? We've been sent a letter."

"It's not the bank again, is it?" Remus mumbled despairingly as he dragged himself up into a sitting position, and as she handed the essay and letter over to him, Dora gave a soft huff.

"Worse than that!" she grunted as he squinted down at the papers. "It's bloody ridiculous, that's what it is! And to think...addressing it to me only! The bloody nerve of the man! Who does he think _you_ are, Ted's bloody _uncle_?!"

"Calm down, darling..." the werewolf suggested as the witch began to pace up and don before the fireplace, and she promptly gave a somewhat hysterical shout of laughter said:

"Oh Remus! Just you wait until you read it!"

By the time Remus had finished reaching the essay and accompanying letter, Dora might very well have worn holes in the carpet from her pacing, and as he frowned down at the signature at the bottom of the letter, Remus wondered:  
"Were you planning on going, then?"

"What?"  
"This...meeting with Professor Etheridge."

"Merlin knows, Remus, I'm supposed to be at the Ministry this evening."

"Hm..." the werewolf reached to abandon the letter upon the arm of the sofa, his eyes drifting closed as he sighed heavily and admitted:

"I must confess I've been waiting for that letter ever since we packed Ted off on the train in September."

Dora instantly sobered.

"And...now it's here...?" she wondered tentatively, coming to stand before him, fingers reaching to tangle with his in his lap.

Remus sighed heavily again, eyes still closed as he concluded:

"Well...I think it's a...it's a very fine essay."

"It is." his wife agreed softly, dropping down into a crouch before him so that she could lean her elbows upon his knees, raising their hands so that she could press her lips against them.

"He's made a couple of spelling mistakes."

"Mm."

"And he goes a bit off topic sometimes...there's a bit too much...speculation..."

"Yes." Dora smiled, thumb scuffing his hand absent-mindedly before suggesting: "I don't think any of it is entirely irrelevant to Defence Against the Dark Arts, though."

"That's...debatable..." Remus said, lips twitching towards a smile when his wife gave a huff and informed him bluntly:

"Personally I feel enlightened to know that there are around three hundred and fourteen werewolves currently in Britain! Like Mad-Eye always used to say, we have to know precisely what we're up against!"

Remus opened his eyes to look down at the witch and for a long moment there was silence, before she gave his hands a firm squeeze and straightened up, telling him:

"Don't look troubled, Sweetheart." Leaning forward she pressed a firm kiss to his lips, informing him somewhat fiercely: "We've done a good job and we've got a son to be proud of, the proof's on that parchment there."

"We've got a son being persistently rude to his teacher..." Remus pointed out, voice a little muffled from her lips upon his, and his wife confessed:

"That's because he has me for a mother! I'll sort it out, love, don't worry about it."

"You're going this evening, then?"

"Mm...somehow..."

When her leaning upon him began to make his legs ache he reached to draw her closer until she consented to dropping down upon the sofa beside him, their legs something of a tangle.

"You're burning, you know." she mumbled between kisses, reaching to tug the blankets from around him, and he wondered:

"What's new?"

"How's the pain?"

"Better when you don't pause to ask me."

"That bad?"

"Mm..."

"Perhaps you'd better lie down, then."

As he found himself being eased sideways to lie upon sofa, pinned to the spot by the witch leaning over him, Remus was forced to screw his eyes shut.

"Go back to work, Dora..." he told her, and she flopped down against his chest, sighing heavily.

"I suppose I better..." she said, making no move to get up.

"Yes, you had." Remus agreed, wrapping his arms around her.

"Persuade Harry to spare me this evening..."

"Mm..."

The two of them lay in silence for a long minute, his hands reaching to smooth her hair, today a dark shade of brown, before he finally decided:

"Don't take the evening off."

"What?"

"I said don't take the evening off. I'll do it. I'll go to the meeting."

"You'll...go...?"

"Yes, I'll go."

Dora shifted until she could look up at him, her nose brushing his chin.

"Remus," she said as he consented to meeting her eye. "You're ill, love..."

"I don't particularly care..."

"You can't apparate in your condition, remember that time..."

"I'll be fine, Dora.

"But..."

"Don't fuss."

"Remus, really...!"

"It's not up for discussion. You're working this evening and as you so rightly pointed out, whatever Professor Etheridge appears to think, I _am_ Teddy's father."

Dora's face contorted in disapproval and she muttered:

"I'd hex you, Remus Lupin, if I didn't think it might finish you off!"

Remus leant with a wince to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Go back to work." he instructed, and as she reluctantly set about getting to her feet, Dora asked:

"Have you ever met him? This...Etheridge bloke?"

"Never."

"Well he sounds like a bloody coward if you ask me." Dora reached to straighten her robes before turning to head for the floo. "He addressed that letter like that on purpose. He's in for a nasty shock when you show up at his door!"

Barnabus Etheridge sat chewing pensively upon a mouthful of chicken and leek pie, staring down at the note in his free hand. The Defence Against the Dark Arts professor seemed rather lost in thought as Neville Longbottom sat down in the chair beside him, so much so that the Herbology professor's greeting made Barnabus jump.

"Chicken and leek is it, Barnabus?"

Barnabus narrowly avoided dropping the note into the gravy boat at Neville's elbow.

"Hm." he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Are you not a fan?" Neville asked cheerfully as he set about piling mashed potato onto his plate, and Barnabus blinked a few times before gracing his colleague with his full attention.

"Oh no, it's very good...very nice..."

Neville glanced sideways at him and, spotting the note, offered:

"Not bad news, I hope?"

"Oh no. It's a letter from one of the parents."

"Oh?"

"Yes..." Barnabus chased a stray carrot rather half-heartedly around his plate. "I have...I have requested a meeting with...with Ted Lupin's mother."

"Teddy's mother?"

"That's right."

"Merlin, whatever for?"

"We seem to be...at odds, Ted and I. Over a piece of homework."

Neville's expression grew instantly bemused.

"That doesn't sound like him at all, Barnabus!" he said, gaze drifting over to the Gryffindor table where he spotted the boy in question midway through pouring himself a generous glass of pumpkin juice. "What do you mean, at odds?"

"He refuses to rewrite his essay on lycanthropy to include the information I thought relevant."

There was a long pause before Neville cleared his throat meaningfully, leaning sideways a little in his seat and dropping his voice to a murmur.

"Barnabus...you are aware, aren't you? Of Teddy's background..."

"I know about his father, yes!" Barnabus snapped, fidgeting again and scowling down at the letter. "I was perfectly careful when I wrote to his mother!"

"To his mother?"

"Of course!"

"Did you write to his father, too?"

Barnabus merely coughed loudly into his sleeve and Neville found himself sucking in a deep breath.

"She'll take offence to that, you know." he informed his colleague bluntly, rather unimpressed himself.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Ted's mother, Barnabus. She doesn't miss a trick, she'll notice you didn't include her husband in your correspondence, it'll offend her..."

"I was simply being cautious! It's a...a delicate matter!"

"It certainly is, and look how you've handled it!"

"He's written back."

"Sorry?"

"Mr Lupin. He's written back...on behalf of both himself and his wife, he says." Barnabus sighed heavily, reaching to rake a hand through his hair in a distinctly worried manner as he muttered: "It's a very...blunt response..."

"I doubt Remus Lupin has ever written a rude letter in his life, Barnabus."

"Not rude, no. But very blunt! Very...vague..."

"Can I see it?" Neville asked, as if they were discussing an interesting newspaper article, and Barnabus held out the note for the Herbology teacher to take.

"Odd...messy sort of letter..." Barnabus observed, nose wrinkling, and Neville frowned down at the short letter and admitted:

"It doesn't look like Remus' handwriting to me. Far too messy..."

"You know him well, do you?"

"I see him quite often...he held your post for a year when I was at school, you know..." Neville recalled, still very much frowning, before he found himself wondering: "I don't suppose you know when the last full moon was, do you?"

Barnabus paused, midway reaching for his goblet of wine.

"Why?" he asked, sounding suspicious.

"It was last night, wasn't it?" Neville went on, putting the letter down so that he could go back to serving himself dinner. "That'd explain the messy handwriting and shortness of the letter. I expect Ted's father is in a rather bad way..."

"I don't understand it!" the Defence professor complained, pressing a hand to his eyes despairingly. "If...if I...if I sent it to his wife...at the Ministry, no less...! Why...why didn't _she_ write back?!"

"I very much doubt Tonks has the time to write back herself." Neville pointed out through a mouthful of greens. "She works ridiculous hours at times, you know. I was with the Aurors for over a year, and one time they were trying to round up a couple of stray Death Eaters, and she spent almost a month working sixteen hour shifts, six days a week. She even got denied sick leave when she fractured her ankle on a raid a couple of weeks in! Word around Auror Headquarters was she had a sleeping bag in her office...I saw more of her than Remus did!"

"And what does he do?"

"Remus? I...can't say I know."

"Does he work?"

"Here and there I think if anyone will let him...not often...plenty of time to sit down and write a letter, that's for sure!"

Barnabus gave a rather disappointed huff.

"I'm not sure what he means...if he means yes, his wife will be coming or...or if...you know..."

"If he will be coming to the meeting in her place?"

"Exactly!"

Neville offered the wizard sat beside him a raised eyebrow.

"Does it really matter which one of them comes, Barnabus?" he asked, the amusement in his voice instantly getting on Barnabus' nerves.  
"No! Of...of course not...I just...well it's simply that I'd...I'd rather..."

"You'd rather not talk about werewolves with the werewolf, I suppose?" Neville said knowing, and Barnabus reached to snatch up the letter, shoving it into his pocket as he grunted:

"Yes! Precisely, Neville!"

And the werewolf's former student gave a grim laugh and muttered:

"Well then! More fool you!" And with that he set about tucking into his dinner.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Barnabus demanded, face flushing pink, and Neville simply shrugged.

"Nothing, really." he said once he had finished his mouthful. As he reached for his goblet, however, he felt compelled to point out: "It's just...you know..."

"Know what?!" Barnabus cried, causing a passing trio of Slytherin students to glance over at him curiously.

Neville shrugged as he sipped his pumpkin juice. Setting the goblet back down he smiled pleasantly at the wizard sat beside him and said:

"Nymphadora Lupin eats wizards like you for breakfast, Barnabus. And she'd probably spit you back out again, too."

And with that, Professor Longbottom observed the time from the clock upon the wall opposite, and concluded:

"Would you look at the time? Do you know, I think we're late for a staff meeting!"

As the narrow, deserted street materialised around him and he found his legs collapsing underneath him, leaving him to fall upon the damp cobbles with a muttered curse, Remus Lupin found himself musing the same thing he always did when attempting apparation the day after a full moon:

_Never again_!

The werewolf allowed himself a long moment to simply lie, sprawled upon the ground, the damp beginning to seep into the freshly launders robes he had donned just half an hour previously, before he set about heaving himself up onto his feet, hastily dusting the mud from his knees and eying his surroundings in the vain hope that nobody had seen his distinctly ropey travel attempts. He took a moment to examine himself for any signs of splinching and was relieved to find himself injury free, if a little dishevelled, and with that he set about stumbling off up the street, towards the lane that led out of Hogsmeade and up to the gates of Hogwarts School.

The sun was beginning to set over the surrounding hills, streaking great streams of orange and pink across the sky, and as he reached the lane Remus found himself staring up at the tall turrets of Hogwarts castle, silhouetted against the vivid colours of the sunset. As he approached the vast gates flanked by winged boars stood as stone sentries at the school's entrance, Remus caught sight of a lone figure waiting for him.

"Evening, Remus!" Neville Longbottom called as he set about unlocking the gates with a firm tap of his wand, and as the heavy chains securing the gates shut began to snake their way free with a rattle, Remus came to a halt.

"Good evening, Neville," he called back, smiling through the fading light at the professor. "It's good of you to come and collect me."

"I was rather hoping you were coming to claim your job back, but Professor Etheridge tells me otherwise." Neville told him as they both stepped back to let the gates swing slowly open.

Remus gave a soft huff of laughter.

"Oh I wouldn't be doing that, Neville. Not even if they invited me!"

"No?" Neville said, sounding distinctly surprised.

Once the gates were open, Remus went to shake Neville's hand.

"Oh no, I don't want that now. Not any more. Even without my condition!"

"Why ever not?"

"I see little enough of my wife as it is without abandoning her for Hogwarts."

As they set off up through the grounds of the school towards the main doors, Neville recalled:

"Yes...Hannah and I...we had a very, very long talk about that before I accepted my post! It's not too bad, what with her hours at the Leaky. I still manage to spend most weekends at home and the odd evening here and there."

"I'm sure Dora would pack me off within the blink of an eye if by some miracle it ever happened." Remus said, stumbling a little on a stray stone. "But it wouldn't be right. Not with her shifts...she'd barely see me."

"How are you both?" Neville asked, eying the werewolf's sickly complexion rather worriedly, and Remus gave a shrug.

"Unremarkable but perfectly well. And yourself?"

"Oh, getting along!" Neville was forced to slow his pace considerably so that Remus could keep up. He glanced sideways at the pale man again, struggling to think of what to say, before settling on: "Ted's doing well, you know! He's...he's working very hard in my classes!"

"I'm glad to hear it."

"He's a quiet boy."

"Is he really?" Remus sounded disbelieving, and Neville gave a chuckle.

"He's...quiet in _Herbology_...noisy everywhere else!"

"Indeed!"

"He has a habit of calling me by my first name in class and I think it rather embarrasses him."

"Ah..."

"So he keeps quiet."

"I see...perhaps you might fetch him for me? I imagine Professor Etheridge and I might need a word."

"Of course I will!" As they finally reached the entrance to the castle and had stepped across the threshold, Neville offered the werewolf a raised eyebrow and said: "I imagine you know your way up to the Defence office better than I do!"

Remus eyed the marble staircase somewhat despairingly, but nevertheless offered the wizard beside him a small smile and set off, ready to heave himself up the steps.

The climb up both that and a few more staircases and the walk along several corridors left the werewolf feeling distinctly light-headed and as he finally approached the door to the office in question he was beginning to wonder if Hogwarts had somehow grown larger since his last visit. He probably looked liked death again by now, he thought irritably, that long shower and a decent dinner probably hadn't made a whole lot of difference to his appearance in the long run. In fact the dinner was making his stomach churn and he felt queasy...

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window and, after scowling at it, straightened up a bit and tried to walk a little faster. He did not give himself time to pause before knocking upon the office door, and he allowed himself a deep breath when a voice from within called:

"Hello...?"

Remus reached to push open the door to reveal the office within. It looked vastly different from when he had called it his own. It was tidier, for one thing. Rather sparse in appearance. Where he had piled books on every available surface, Professor Etheridge preferred to keep everything hidden away in cupboards. The wooden surfaces were highly polished and Remus couldn't help but get the impression that Hogwarts' current Defence Professor was something of a clean freak.  
Professor Etheridge himself was sat behind his desk, seemingly midway through marking a stack of essays, and as he looked up to see Remus stood in the doorway the slightly podgy, middle aged man simply stared and proceeded to drip a generous splatter red ink all over the essay in front of him.

"Ah..." he said rather uncertainly, apparently unaware of his blunder.

"Professor Etheridge, I presume?" Remus said, trying to stand straight again as he took a step into the room, and the movement seemed to jolt Etheridge from his daze. He hastily abandoned his quill pen and rose clumsily to his feet.

"That's right, Barnabus Etheridge! And...and you must...you must be...you must be Mr. Lupin! Ted's father..."

Remus felt rather as if he wanted to sigh at the man's flustered introduction, but instead he made his way across the room, trying not to stumble upon the pristine rug upon the floor.

"It's Remus, please." he said, holding out a hand to shake the professor firmly by the hand. "Thank you ever so much for the invitation. I'm afraid my wife couldn't join us, she is working late this evening."

"Oh, that's quite understandable!" Etheridge exclaimed, sounding distinctly displeased despite his best efforts. "It's very good of you to agree to come at such short notice! Do...do take a seat!"  
"I've asked Professor Longbottom to fetch Teddy for us..." Remus began, glad to sink down into a chair, only to wince a little when his knees gave way underneath him and he managed to make the movement distinctly clumsy, causing Etheridge to stare at him quite strangely. He offered the professor a wan smile, confessing: "Goodness, it's been a long day!"

The professor laughed uneasily and offered:

"Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"Ah, yes please!"

"Do you take milk or sugar?"

"A dash of milk, please. And five sugars."

Having leapt into action, Etheridge was already reaching for the kettle, only to pause, eyes rather wide as he wondered:

"Did you say..._five sugars_, Mr. Lupin?"

"Remus, please." Remus reminded him pleasantly, smile broadening. "And yes please, five sugars."  
"Goodness..." Etheridge said, face growing a shade pinker when he realised he could be seen as rude.

"Dreadful isn't it?" Remus agreed, stifling a yawn into his sleeve. "I don't usually take sugar at all, but I must say the walk up here has quite taken it out of me..."

Etheridge hastily busied himself with the kettle, murmured:

"Ah...yes, yes I...I can imagine..."

As he leaned back in his seat, blinking rapidly to resist the urge to close his eyes too, Remus folding his hands carefully in his lap.

"My wife gave me Teddy's essay to read this afternoon. I must say I thought it rather well researched."

"Oh yes, yes. Yes, I agree that it was very well researched." Etheridge agreed, nodding his head vigorously as he gave the kettle a sharp tap with his wand. "I was very interested by...by some of the facts he had there. The...the average transformation time...that was...very...I can't imagine where he found out a fact as obscure as that..."

"Ah, he's known that since the age of five."

"Five?"

"Yes...not that we planned it that way, of course, but one thing led to another and...well it's always better to be honest with a child, isn't it? They're more perceptive than we give them credit for, after all."

"Indeed..." Etheridge mumbled, sounding somewhat disbelieving, and as the kettle let out a sharp whistle he hastily snatched it up, reaching with his free hand for a carefully polished silver teapot. When he came to set two cups of tea down upon the desk a few minutes later, pushing one carefully across the highly polished surface towards his guest, the professor's expression had grown bleak.

"Mr. Lupin," he said, gaze flickering rather apprehensively between Remus' face and his cup of tea, "I understand that this must all be a very...delicate matter where your son is concerned..."

"We're not delicate, Professor Etheridge. On the contrary, we're extremely frank."

"...indeed but...but perhaps Theodore does not appreciate _my_ frankness at all..."

"Seemingly not, Professor."

"Yes, but...but be that as it may, and...and be it far from my place to...to suggest how you ought raise your son, perhaps you might...might consider that your frankness has well and truly rubbed off on him. To the extent that I certainly do not appreciate it, either! It is...it is very...I found it quite...one does not expect such a...such a bombardment! The entire room was uncomfortable!"

There was a long pause as Remus took a moment to sip his tea, the thought of so much sugar making Etheridge wince, before the werewolf offered the teacher a smile.

"If my son has yet to entirely grasp the difference between being frank and being rude, Professor, I shall certainly be the first to point out to him his mistake. But I will not instruct him to simply sit back and not defend his opinions, especially on a matter like this. If Teddy cannot defend his opinions of werewolves then he shall soon conclude that I am entirely defenceless myself. That's no thought for a boy like him, I'm sure you would agree, to feel that way about his own father."

Etheridge shifted awkwardly in his chair before giving a soft huff.

"Theodore's opinions aside, the fact of the matter is that he did not write the essay that I requested!" he complained, beginning to sound a little flustered. "And...and the fact of the matter is that my subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts and...that...that werewolves are...well they are...they're..."

"Dark creatures." the werewolf opposite offered, taking another sip of his tea, and Etheridge found himself exclaimed:

"Exactly! That's...that's simply...that's simply a fact! It...it doesn't change just because...just because you...because your son, rather...I mean..."

"My having a son has no bearing on whether or not a werewolf is a dark creature at all." Remus supplied, sounding entirely calm to voice the notion. "That's very true..."

"Yes and...and...it is important...it's a vital part of...of Theodore's education in...in Defence Against the Dark Arts that he...that he be able to...to..."

"To identify the differences between a werewolf and a true wolf, and understand the dangers surrounding werewolves and if possible how to defend oneself against one." Remus finished for him, and with that he drained his teacup and set it back down upon the desk in front of him.

"Y...yes, indeed..." Etheridge agreed weakly, grip upon his own teacup slackening, and he promptly blushed scarlet when the werewolf nodded and said:

"Yes, I quite agree with you, it's an important topic to cover. I'm quite aware of the curriculum, having taught Defence at Hogwarts myself." At that precise moment there came a knock upon the office door and as Etheridge simply stared at the werewolf blankly, Remus found himself reaching to drag himself to his feet. His legs appeared to have gone dead...

As he stumbled to avoid knocking the cup and saucer off the desk, he offered the professor a grimace in apology.

"That ought be Professor Longbottom with Teddy." he explained pleasantly as Etheridge blinked rather dimly. "If you'd excuse me, I shall have a word or two with him about his behaviour. You'll have his redrafted essay by tomorrow morning, I'm sure." And with that he reached rather stiffly forward to offer Etheridge his hand.

For a long moment, the professor simply stared at the gesture, before hurriedly reaching forward to shake the werewolf by the hand.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, plastering a broad smile across his face. "Thank you very much for coming and...and being so...so understanding!"

"It's been a pleasure." Remus told him, releasing his hand in order to turn and stumble off towards the door, and as he reached for the door handle he glanced back to say: "Thank you for the tea, Professor Etheridge. And thank you for inviting my _wife_. She found your letter to be _extremely_ informative."

And with that, the werewolf reached to pull open the door, leaving the professor to suck in a deep breath, flinching in embarrassment. He watched numbly as the door opened to reveal Neville and Teddy, the latter's hands flying to his hips as he demanded to know:

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?!"

"I believe I have the right." the boy's father murmured dryly, only for Teddy to ask:

"Does Mum know you've been...been apparating the day after full moon?!"

"Indeed she does..."

"Did you put her under the Imperius Curse?!"

"Certainly not, but I shall have to remember that notion for next time."

"You could've splinched yourself, Dad!"

"Perhaps if you would consent to completing your homework assignments in a timely and appropriate fashion, Theodore, I might save myself the risk!" As he ushered his son back out into the corridor, taking a few rather shaky steps after him, Etheridge watched Remus reach to shake Neville warmly by the hand, murmuring: "Thank you ever so much, Neville."

"You're welcome, Remus. Should you like me to walk you back to the gates, once you and Ted have had a word?"

"He's not going to apparate himself home again, surely!"

"Be quiet, Ted. That would be very kind, Neville."  
"I'll be in the staffroom, when you're ready."

"I'll be sure to come and find you." With one last glance back into the room, Remus offered Etheridge a bright: "Good evening, Professor!" And with that he set off down the corridor, Teddy beside him.

Etheridge flopped back in his chair as the irritatingly grinning face of Neville Longbottom peered around the door to look at him.

"How was it?" the Herbology professor asked, sounding distinctly smug as he took a step inside the doorway, and as he screwed his eyes shut Etheridge couldn't help but wonder:

"Has he _really_ taught Defence Against the Dark Arts here?"

"Oh yes!" Neville said, grinning broadly. "Best teacher I ever had, hands down!"

Etheridge sighed heavily, reaching to rub a weary hand across his eyes.

"I need a whiskey..." he concluded a moment later.

As the blank sheet of parchment was set down before him and he found a quill thrust under his nose, Teddy Lupin folded his arms firmly across his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

"I won't do it!" he informed his father fiercely as Remus stood, leaning heavily against the desk, arm outstretched. "I'm telling you I won't! You can't make me!"

"Take the quill, Theodore."

"No! I wrote his stupid essay! I'm not writing him another one! Not a single word!"

"You were so displeased that I've made the trip up here, Teddy. Are you really going to make it entirely wasted?"

"I didn't ask you to come!"

"No indeed, but here I am. Come along, take the quill. You've not got long before you are due back in Gryffindor Tower. Let's get this done so we can both get to bed."

"I'm not writing it."

There was a sizeable pause before Remus dropped the quill to the desk, seemingly defeated, before he went to drag a chair from the desk behind him forward so that he could sit down opposite his son. Leaning heavily upon the table, the werewolf sighed, before pointing out:

"I wrote this essay when I was your age, Teddy. If I can do it, why not you?"

"Because you shouldn't have!" Teddy informed him moodily, folding his arms firmly across his chest with a huff.

"Why ever not?"

"Because! It's...it's biased! Against werewolves!"

"It's a series of facts about werewolves, Teddy. Are you telling me what Professor Etheridge tells you about them is untrue?"

"No, but..."

"Then write them down and memorise them. What's the harm?"

"But he won't listen, Dad! He doesn't...doesn't want to hear about...about anything except all those horrid details and it...it isn't fair!"

"It's Defence Against the Dark Arts, Teddy! I wouldn't want to hear anything except the horrid details from my students when I taught it, either! Now I'm not going to tell you that you wrote a bad essay, even Professor Etheridge was impressed by what you wrote! But you must keep in mind the purpose of the exercise, and that is to give you some knowledge that might help keep you safe. Do you suppose your mother doesn't bother with the horrid details just to save my feelings? How should she know what protective charms to cast each full moon? How should she know the symptoms of poisoning from bad Wolfsbane? She knows all the grizzly facts inside out, Teddy! It keeps all three of us safe! It keeps us from having accidents! It keeps me from getting too sick! It's helped her at work during night raids, believe it or not! It's important, Teddy! It's unpleasant! Sometimes you'll think it hurts! But sometimes the most painful things are the most necessary things of all!"

Teddy's gaze dropped to stare somewhat accusingly at the quill pen upon the desk in front of him, before he admitted:

"I don't know how you do it, Dad. I don't know how you...pretend it's all...all normal or...or all alright..."

Remus reached to toy absent-mindedly with the corner of the parchment set upon the desk between them, frowning ever so slightly.

"Your mother would say the same to me all the time...when you were small. After she had married me, of course. Before then she only ever had three words to say upon the subject of my condition."

"What were they?"

"_I don't care_." Remus gave a soft huff of amusement before admitting: "It worried me a great deal. I thought perhaps she didn't...didn't quite think the whole thing through as thoroughly as she ought have. But once we were bound together till death to us part, and once the War was over and Voldemort had failed to part us, your mother had a whole lot of time to think about werewolves. About what seemed fair and what seemed unjust. About what was normal...what was painful. And once she'd thought about it...to begin with she was an awful lot like you are now. She wanted to take on the world, start some sort of...revolution! She couldn't understand how I could be so calm and accepting of the way things were."

"What changed her mind?" Teddy wondered, his chin coming to rest atop his arms, and Remus puffed his cheeks in consideration.

"Motherhood, I suspect." he pondered with a smile. "It's never wise to declare war on society with a small child in tow, you know. We'd had enough of those dangers during the War when you were first born. Then, I suppose, you come to accept that it is difficult for an individual to change the world, Teddy. Perhaps it is not impossible, perhaps one might go as far as to try. But it can make you eternally tired, all that fighting. And we'd fought quite enough already for something we believed in, thank you ver much. What your mother came to realise is that there comes a point in life...quite early on for an unlucky few of us, after all your mother was young when she fought against the Death Eaters, that you simply don't want to keep fighting day in, day out. Sometimes you just want to...to settle down and make the most of what the fighting has left to you."

Teddy pursed his lips together thoughtfully for a long moment, before pointing out:

"I've not done any fighting yet."

To his slight irritation, Remus laughed.

"Life isn't all about fighting, Teddy." he informed his son with a raised eyebrow. "More often or not it is about knowing when you shouldn't fight at all. And there's no use fighting with Professor Etheridge about something like this. In the grand scheme of things it's rather trivial, don't you think? You must know these things he is teaching you, after all. You know they are important. And being rude to him shall never do. What do we tell you? Never be rude, Teddy, there's never any need for rudeness, it doesn't serve any useful purpose at all." When Teddy merely sighed in a distinctly defeated manner, his forehead coming to rest against the desk, Remus reached to pick up the quill, pushing it into his son's hand before reaching to unscrew the bottle of ink at the boy's elbow, insisting: "Come along. We shall write this together, if you like."

There was a long, deliberating pause before Teddy consented to sitting straighter in his chair.

"I suppose you must have got an Outstanding grade when you wrote your werewolf essay when you were my age." he said as he reached to dip the quill into the ink, and as he set about writing a neat title atop the page, Remus leaning back in his chair, gaze drifting up towards the ceiling with a smile as he recalled:

"Actually, I only got Exceeds Expectations." When Teddy paused in his writing to look up at his father in surprise, the werewolf gave a snigger, reaching to tap a meaningful figure against the parchment, and when Teddy looked back down to finish the title Remus mused: "Perhaps we might manage to scrape an Outstanding between us if we rack our brains! What do you say?"

And Teddy had finished crossing his Ts and dotting his Is in order to look up to offer his father a broad grin.

"I'd say Professor Etheridge won't know what hit him, Dad!" the werewolf's son sniggered.

When she arrived home that evening, dusting the soot from her robes as she stepped out of the floor, Dora Lupin found herself confronted with a series of discarded garments leading a telling trail up the hallway towards the kitchen. Stepping carefully over a tie and narrowly avoiding tripping upon a rumpled cream shirt, the Auror discovered her husband stooped over the kitchen sink, a series of glass bottles and vials upon the draining board as water gushed from the taps. As she drew hurriedly closer the witch found the werewolf dabbing a damp cloth to his bare chest with a wince.

"Didn't I tell you it was stupid?!" she asked, reaching to stem the flow of water from the taps with one hand, pulling him round to face her with the other so that she could inspect the damage. "Didn't I tell you apparating was really, really bad..._shit_! Look at you!"

As he found the bloodied cloth snatched from his hand, Remus gave a shrug, only to wince when she reached to press the material against the large gash across his chest.

"I told you you'd get splinched!" she snapped, expression quite mad as she pushed him backwards until he could collapse into a chair at the kitchen table. "I told you!"

"Dora," the werewolf began, seemingly entirely unconcerned. "Don't..."

"Don't you dare tell me not to fuss!" she interrupted, dark eyes narrowing to scowl at him before returning to the sink, snatching up one of the glass bottles to eye in consideration. "You have me worried sick, sometimes! I told you after last time to be more careful!" She paused to raise the bottle to her lips, pulling the cork stopping it free with her teeth, spitting it out towards the sink, before dousing the cloth generously in the sweet smelling liquid within. "How was it, anyway?" she asked as an afterthought, coming to stand before him.

Remus opened his mouth to reply, only to promptly close it again with a wince when she reached to press the cloth to the wound.

"I gave Professor Etheridge your regards. I can't say he appreciated them." he said after a moment, and his wife smirked and muttered:

"What a tosser!"

"He made a good cup of tea." Remus reasoned, and Dora reached to drop the cloth down upon the table so that she could reach to cup his face in her hands.

"You're much too nice, Sweetheart." she informed him, leaning to press a kiss to his lips, and as he reached to rest his hands carefully upon her waist the werewolf suggested:

"You'd be no different."

"Your faith in me is impressive!" she teased, and he pulled her closer, forehead coming to rest against her arm.

"My faith in you is entirely limitless and exceptionally foolish." he said, causing her to slap him rebukingly upon the arm.

"Did Teddy grace you with his presence?" she asked, reaching for the cloth again, crouching to get a better look at his injury.

"He did."

"And?"

"Woe betide Professor Etheridge and the world at large!"

"Oh Merlin!"

"I've rather rained on his parade this time round. But he's got righteous fire in his belly, it won't go out quite that easily."

"I hadn't expected much else."

"He's his mother's son." Remus informed his wife, sounding distinctly resigned, and Dora dropped the cloth to the floor so that she could reach to lace their fingers together, rising up upon her toes until the two of them had their foreheads pressed together.

"And don't you love him for it!" she murmured, dark eyes shining in amusement.

"There's no doubt I do." the werewolf whispered, lips curving into a smile, and the witch smiled too and whispered:

"Again, my love: I hadn't expected much else!"

**Finish.**


End file.
